


Point of a Pistol

by Aviss



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cop Brienne, F/M, Mafia Jaime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 12:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20045944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: It had all been going too well until Brienne felt the pressure of the barrel of a gun against the back of her head."I got you," his voice whispered in her ear, low and amused, and Brienne froze, cursing under her breath. Of course it had to be him. "You've trusted the wrong people, wench. And now, you're dead."





	Point of a Pistol

It had all been going too well until Brienne felt the pressure of the barrel of a gun against the back of her head.

"_I got you,_" his voice whispered in her ear, low and amused, and Brienne froze, cursing under her breath. Of course it had to be him. "You've trusted the wrong people, wench. And now, you're dead." He pushed his body against her back, his breath brushing her hair, but his gun never wavered. She yearned to press back against him, feel the heat of his body and be enveloped in his smell once again, to turn around in his arms and see his face again, to kiss him one last time. 

She wanted to turn around and hit him, take out her own gun and fight, even when it was foolishness with a gun pressed against her skull.

She did none of those things. "_Jaime_," she said, softly, allowing his name on her lips for the first time in two years.

"_Bang_," he whispered, his lips caressing her ear right before he pulled back and she shuddered, waiting for the shot. 

He pressed his lips to her temple before he hit her with the grip of his gun, and darkness rushed in.

…

Brienne's head was killing her, the pressure of the headache against her temples and eyeballs telling her Jaime had not been gentle knocking her out. She was lucky, though, if it had been someone else she would be dead and she knew it. 

"Someone sold us out to the Lannisters," Brienne grumbled, still feeling unsettled by the encounter and her reaction to him. Since when did she passively wait to be shot? Had she completely lost her mind?

She entered her Captain's office and dropped gracelessly to one of the chairs, trying to jostle her head as little as possible. From the other side of the table, Captain Stark stared at her with a frown. "There was no deflector."

"What do you mean?" Catelyn asked, alarmed. They had been working on the case against the Lannister family for two years, and finally, finally, they had had a break. Someone within the family was willing to come forward. It had taken months of subterfuge and work just to arrange this first meeting.

Except it seemed they had been tricked.

"It was a trap," she said because that was what it was. "I followed the instructions and took every precaution, but when I arrived at the meeting place there was nobody there, only their enforcer."

She'd cursed herself for a fool a million times for not leaving the moment she had seen the empty motel room, all her instincts telling her she had to run. Then _he_ had spoken, and Brienne had wanted nothing more than turn around and see him one last time before he killed her.

Except he hadn't, and now Brienne was more confused than ever and had a bear of a headache.

"You're still alive," Catelyn pointed out, needlessly. "How?" The Lannisters were not known for leaving enemies alive, on either side of the law.

Brienne grit her teeth. It was time to come clean. "We have history, him and I."

It was a bloodless way to explain the month-long affair during a trip to Essos that had left them both heartbroken. 

They had met by chance, she was convinced of that, and their chemistry had been immediate and devastating. Jaime was possibly the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and definitely, the most beautiful she had ever kissed. And she had kissed him, never tiring of the feel of his mouth and body, of his hands on her. They had shared few details about their lives, both assuming it was going to be just a summer fling, an indulgence before they had to return to their real lives in another continent. They had only exchanged their first names when they met in the hotel bar, changed their plans to travel around the continent together, sharing nothing more personal than their favourite books and their dreams and fantasies. She knew he was taking a break from his overbearing family, he knew she was taking her first real vacation to give herself time to mourn her father. Falling in love with him had been as unintended as it had been inevitable, and they had both realized their mistake a week before they were due to return home. 

They had been in a hotel in Lys, lounging naked on their bed with a glass of wine and a platter of cheese and fruit between them. She had called him a pig the first time he'd convinced her to eat in bed, but he insisted on doing it and she was weak to his smiles. "Come back to King's Landing with me," he had said, pressing his lips against her shoulder. "We can't let this end here."

"Yes." She had smiled at him. "I've already applied for a transfer to a precinct there," she had said and had felt him stiffening against her. "I'm waiting for confirmation."

"You are a cop?" he had asked, and that was when the alarms had started to go off in her head.

"Yes, I work in Vice in Highgarden, but I'm transferring to KL to Organized Crime," she had said, because if they were talking about a future together that was important information. It meant her life would be in danger, and his by association. King's Landing had been controlled for decades by a very powerful and ruthless family, one of the reasons her transfer was just a matter of time. Nobody wanted that position. 

He had started laughing then, not the delighted laugh she had fallen in love with, but a mirthless awful laugh that had chilled her to the bone. "What's wrong, Jaime?" she had asked, concerned and scared. Something was very wrong. 

He finally got himself under control, the wine had spilt from his glass to the sheets, but neither of them cared. "You never asked me for my full name." Brienne had shaken her head. "Come on, wench, ask me."

She hadn't wanted to know. 

"What's your full name?" she had asked, her voice thready, dreading whatever response he was going to give her. 

"Jaime Lannister."

She had closed her eyes then. "_No_." It was worse than she had imagined.

"I'm sorry," he had said, and he sounded it. She couldn't comprehend how the wonderful man she had been travelling with for the past month could be part of that family. Her Jaime was sweet and laughed easily, was generous and open with his affections, and was never rude or entitled in spite of the money he had, considering the hotel rooms he booked for them and how much he just spent on a whim. He couldn't be the heir of Tywin Lannister, the ruthless enforcer for his family and future head of the most important crime family in Westeros.

One of the greatest triumphs of Tywin Lannister had been to keep his public business under the control of Kevan Lannister, a businessman who operated strictly above board and was untouchable, and everything else about his family out of the public's eyes. The only pictures of his heirs, a pair of twins, were blurry shots of golden-haired teenagers. They had definitely grown up.

"Let's stay here. We don't have to go back," she had said, urgently and desperately, knowing it was useless but needing to say it. "We can find jobs here, start fresh. _We can stay. Together_."

He had kissed her deeply, hungrily, not giving her an answer. They had spent that night making love with the desperation of a goodbye, even when neither of them had acknowledged it. She had fallen asleep entwined with him, tear tracks still fresh on her cheeks. 

He had been gone by morning.

"You're telling me you know what Jaime Lannister, and by extension, his twin Cersei, looks like?" Catelyn asked with a note of Winterfell's frost in her voice. Brienne hung her head. She had pictures but if she said that, she might as well pack her desk and hand her badge, she was sure. "You've known for years."

"Yes," she admitted. 

Catelyn stared at her for a moment, lips pressed tightly. She had almost lost her husband in the course of the investigation, a botched hit which had left Ned injured. It had been the only botched hit by the Lannisters, and according to Ned he had been engaged in a fight with one of the men when he had been shot in the leg from behind and then kicked in the head. He had been on the verge of unconsciousness when the enforcer, who Ned described as a tall, blonde blur, had approached and killed his attacker for interfering, leaving Ned there to be rescued. "You get to keep your life, Stark. For now."

"I should pull you from the investigation," Catelyn said, her voice hard. "You are a liability, you're compromised, but he didn't kill you. He knows what you do, and he knows that you know him, and yet, you're still alive."

"Yes." She said, unsure of what Catelyn was aiming at.

"We have found his weak spot, and we'll use it." She smiled suddenly, and it sent a thrill down Brienne's back. "Forget the defector, we want Jaime Lannister."

That would be the biggest damage they could cause to the organization, that would cripple it.

And get Jaime out.

Maybe they could have another chance.

…

Jaime stared at the bottom of his glass and wished he was more of a drinker, that way he'd be able to forget about her for a while. Not that he had been able to forget about the wench for the two years since he had seen her, now that he had her smell and the feel of her skin against his lips again, there was no way he would think of anything else. 

He wasn't supposed to have gone today, and now Jaime couldn't think about what would have happened if he hadn't. She would be dead. The wench would be dead, those astonishing eyes of her closed forever. It didn't bear thinking, but it had almost happened.

Tywin had been slowly shifting Jaime out of enforcement, letting Lancel take up the slack and ensuring Kevan's compliance with all aspects of their family's tradition. It should have been Lancel who had gone to see what their bait had fished. It was another of Tywin's ideas to check and derail possible investigations into their affairs, leave enough clues and tempt the police and purge the most persistent ones, the ones who posed a threat to them. Jaime had only gone because he had angered his sister once again rejecting her advances, and as punishment she'd convinced Tywin to send Jaime for the kill, knowing how much he hated cold blood assassinations.

It had been Cersei who rejected him first, who married Robert Baratheon for power and then, when he had proven to be a disgusting drunken leech, and a violent one on top, tried to get Jaime back and convince him to get rid of her husband. Jaime had been feeling more and more disillusioned with his family by then, considering the only person on the right side of legality was Tyrion, and only because Tywin's loathing had pushed him away. Jaime didn't like assassinations, didn't like enforcing and definitely didn't like most of the business his family conducted. He had let himself be raised and embroiled in it for Cersei's love. After her rejection, he'd needed time to himself and to reconsider his life.

He had met Brienne then, at the lowest point of his life and a few thousand miles away from home. She had sat next to him in a hotel bar in Braavos, the tallest woman Jaime had ever seen with the bluest eyes. She had hailed the waiter and tried to order a drink in braavosi, her tongue tripping over the unfamiliar vowels and consonants, her deep voice rumbling. She had flushed endearingly, her face a blotchy red, and she had bitten her lips, already big enough, until they were red and swollen. Taken separately, each of her features wasn't bad, but the Gods had done a terrible job of putting them together. She was, technically, ugly, but Jaime found her very compelling.

Jaime had never wanted to fuck anyone but Cersei and it had taken him a minute to realize that was what he was feeling, and by then she had turned to him with a scowl. Her incredible eyes were fixed on him, and Jaime smiled at her. "You're telling the waiter that the sky is purple," he had said, and her eyes had widened, her flush spreading even more. He had wondered how far it would go and whether she would allow him to discover it. "What do you want to order?"

"Tequila sunrise, please," she had said, and Jaime had ordered for her, much to the waiter's relief. 

She had relaxed immediately when no mocking or insult had come her way, and they had drunk a few cocktails more. That night, Jaime had discovered that with enough provocation, her flush went almost to her navel, that he loved tequila flavoured kisses, and that being pinned and ridden by a woman bigger than him was the most erotic experience of his life. 

During the following month, he had learned how to live like a normal person, how to laugh, how to have fun without looking over his shoulder constantly. He had learned to trust someone outside the family, and that sleeping encircled in her arms kept the bad dreams at bay. Had learned he loved waking up with her in bed, and eating her out for hours until she was a panting mess, without worrying about the noise they were making or if someone would discover them. He learned he loved marking her, sucking bruises on her neck and letting her push bruises into his hips with her hands. He had learned that it was possible to receive love, not only to give it, and that he should want it. 

He had learned what it felt to fall in love and to be truly happy. And that he liked not smelling blood in his hands.

And then, finally, had learned that he was the Seven's favourite broken toy. Brienne, his wench, was a cop. Organized Crime division. The gods were making him pay for his numerous crimes, if he dared come back to King's Landing with her, she would be dead within the week. 

He had left her in their bed in Lys, the taste of her tears still on his lips when he boarded the plane back to King's Landing, and then he had spent two years trying to forget about her and to fit into his old life. _What a fool_. He had hated himself and his life more than ever. 

He knocked back his drink and took out his phone. 

"Hello Tyrion," he said when his brother picked up the phone. If he was surprised to hear his brother's voice for the first time in four years, Tyrion didn't say anything. 

"Hello Jaime," Tyrion said, sounding the same as he had always done, like he was amused by some joke you still had not understood. "How's life treating you? I hope you're calling with good news, like father's death or imprisonment."

Jaime chuckled, he knew Tyrion loathed their father as much as Tywin loathed him, but didn't think Jaime would ever move against the family. He saw her blue eyes filled with tears in his mind, saw them closed forever. Brienne wasn't going to stop going after his family, and the next time she might not be so lucky as to have Jaime sent after her. "Not yet, but I need you to find me a phone number. Her name is Brienne, I don't know her last name, Organized Crime division in KLPD." Tyrion, much to his father's disappointment, had gone to work for the public prosecutor office, though he had not moved against the family yet and he wouldn't.

"I'm not helping you with a hit, Jaime," Tyrion spat harshly. "You know better."

"Not a hit. The opposite."

He could hear the breath gushing out of Tyrion even through the phone. "Fuck. You're serious?"

"Yes."

"_Fuck_." He could hear his brother moving and a computer booting up and the sound of keys, his brother still swearing under his breath. After a minute, Tyrion rattled out a series of numbers and Jaime scrambled to write them down in the palm of his hand.

"Thank you, little brother."

"Don't make me regret this," Tyrion said, his voice completely serious for one. "And be careful, you were the only reason I survived childhood in that hell, I don't want anything to happen to you."

Jaime felt his heart breaking. This was probably the last time he would speak to his brother and they had not spoken in so long. He had wasted too much time. "I will be. I love you."

"I love you too."

He walked out of the bar, bought a disposable phone with a prepaid SIM card from a second-hand shop, and dialled the number, ready to set fire to his previous life.

"Hello wench, I'm sorry about earlier."

…

Brienne had almost not picked up the phone. She usually didn't when she didn't recognize the number, but something had made her answer, almost expecting some telemarketer to try to sell her insurance, or better internet speed, or something she didn't want or need. 

She hadn't expected his voice, nor the somersault her heart had done hearing it. "Hello wench, I'm sorry about earlier."

There were many things she wanted to tell him, all of them crowding against her lips. "You could have been a bit gentler, Jaime," she finally settled for and his answering chuckle washed over her like a hot shower on a cold day, warming her insides and leaving her tingly.

"I seem to remember you preferred it when I wasn't too gentle."

"My headache disagrees," she retorted, almost pouting. The ibuprofen had finally eased her headache, and she was feeling much better and much more hopeful. 

"I'm sorry I hit you, wench, but I'm not sorry I went there today," his voice turned serious there. "I need to see you. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I think it's time."

"Jaime--" she began.

"Remeber Pentos? Remember the night we spent by the beach?" As if she could ever forget. She had told him one of her fantasies growing up had been making out in a beach under the moonlight, and he had taken her to a beautiful cove and kissed her for what felt like hours, never in a hurry to move further than that, even when she could feel his hard cock against her, could feel how dripping wet she was. But he had just kissed her, saying teenage fantasies were for kisses, and then when they had made it to the hotel, she had crawled on the bed and he'd fucked her slowly and deeply until they had both come gasping into each other's mouth. He had tear tracks on his face when they had finished, and so had she. That was probably the night they realized they were in love. "I still have the picture we took in the pier. I had to delete all the rest, lest my family found them, and you. But I couldn't part with that one. I already knew what was important then, it's just taken me this long to do something about it."

"What do you mean?" She asked, suddenly fearful for him. She knew what he risked if he came forward against his family, and it was all well and good to talk about it with her captain and to plan for contingencies and everything else. But if he did it, his life was over. 

One way or the other.

"_You know._"

"We shouldn't be talking about this on the phone," she said, suddenly paranoid, her eyes darting around as if something had changed in her tiny studio in the past five minutes. 

"No, we shouldn't. I'm not an idiot, regardless of what some people in my family think, this is a burner and I'll dispose of it when we hang up. Name a place and I'll be there."

She turned to check the time and calculated how long it would take her to get there. "Castle Black, in the Street of Steel, in an hour."

"I'll see you there, wench."

"Brienne," she said, and couldn't help the smile on her face."My name is Brienne."

"I know." He hung up and Brienne exploded into motion, getting into the shower and putting on clothes hurriedly. She had to remind herself she wasn't dressing for a date, and that it could still be a trap. She didn't think so, though. She dialled Catelyn's number on the way out and got into her car. "He called me, I'm meeting him in twenty."

"It's too soon, Brienne," she protested, sounding alarmed. "There's no time to get a task force, it could be another trap."

"It's not."

"It's too risky."

Brienne sighed. "Please trust me, he's going to come forward. What can I offer him?" She needed to know, she didn't want to offer him anything that Catelyn would reject later. 

"Anything he wants," was her immediate response, knowing full well how important this was. If there was someone who could topple the Lannisters, it was Jaime. "He'll get a full pardon and a new identity, which he will need, if he testifies." Brienne knew how hard it was for her to offer a pardon to the man who almost killed her husband, but Catelyn was a professional.

"Thank you, Captain."

Brienne's stomach was twisting itself in knots when she arrived at Castle Black, a popular bar with the college crowd that inhabited that area. She had chosen it because it was going to be crowded, making it more difficult to lay a trap, and because she knew the owner and he'd let her use the backroom. Jaime was already there when she arrived, standing by the bar with a glass of whiskey in his hand and his eyes trained on the door. 

Their eyes locked, and Brienne had forgotten how devastatingly handsome he was, with his long blond hair and his deep green eyes, his lips curled on that mischievous smirk she remembered so well. She approached him, cautiously, and the smirk morphed into a smile of genuine pleasure. 

"Brienne," he said, her name a caress, and leaned forward pressing his lips gently against the same temple he had bruised that morning. "Let me kiss it better."

"Jaime," she said with a shudder at the feel of his lips. She wanted them on hers, but they had important things to discuss. 

They weren't here to renew their affair. She signalled to her friend and Jon just took a look at them and handed her the key for the backroom and a glass of tequila.

The moment the door was closed, Jaime took a step toward her, his eyes darkening. He stopped himself before he could touch Brienne, though, and took a deep breath. "What you answered today was one of my father's honeypots," he began, and Brienne felt her blood run cold. "He lays baits, different ones depending on what he expects to catch. The defector one is his favourite because he uses it to weed out the cops that can't be bribed and are persistent enough to get to the end. Then he lures them in and sends me or my cousin Lancel, who's taking over as enforcer, to kill them. It serves a double purpose, it discourages other cops from coming after our family, and it eliminates the ones that pose a danger to it." Jaime's face tiwsted here in disgust. "I've always hated these jobs, and today I was sent there as punishment."

Brienne didn't know what to say, she was feeling horrified by the fact that she had almost died today. He smiled sadly and took a step back. 

"I know I'm not a good person," he said, and Brienne wanted to disagree with him, but she couldn't. She knew that Jaime, her Jaime, was a good man. But Jaime Lannister, the killer, was a different thing. "I was already embroiled in this life when I realized there were other ways of life, and I thought I didn't deserve anything better. It was so hard to leave you in Lys."

"But you did," she said, because it had hurt. 

"Yes, and you were safe that way unless you came after me, but you never did. I thought I would find you knocking on our door one day, that my picture would be circulated and that my identity would be public. But it wasn't. And today, I had you in my sight and realized that I'd sooner give up my family than kill you." He couldn't mean that, but he was looking at her very seriously. "They finally asked the one thing of me I could never give them."

He took a USB stick from his pocket and handed it to her. "What is this?"

"_Everything_."

She felt choked, incapable to believe what he was saying. "And what do you want for it?"

Jaime shook his head. "Nothing. I want you, but not in exchange for that. I just want you."

Brienne closed her eyes against the sting of tears, took a deep breath and when she opened them again they were dry. She pocketed the drive and took a step towards Jaime. "I've been authorized to offer you a full pardon and a new identity, once the trial against your family is over. You can be whoever you want, wherever you want."

"If I survive, you mean," he said with a humourless chuckle.

Brienne nodded once. "Yes, if we survive." He didn't miss the use of _we_, and he smiled slowly and took a step closer to her, the offer she had made a long time ago hanging in the space between the two of them. She had meant it then, and she still meant it now.

"Do you still want to live in Lys?" he asked, his eyes soft and full of awe. "With me?"

She took the last step and they were almost touching, their breaths mingling. "I think I prefer Pentos," she said, finally leaning down to kiss him.

…

The beach in Pentos had changed little since the first time they had been there, the light of the moon still fell over the breaking waves tinting everything silver and making Brienne's eyes even more beautiful than daylight.

Here, on this beach, was where he realized for the first time what it was to be in love. Not what he had believed before, but real love, the kind that gave as much as it took. It had been a different man who had brought Brienne, a woman he had known for just a couple of weeks, here to make her fantasy come true. Or maybe it had been the same man but he hadn't known himself then.

Either way, this was the best place to celebrate their anniversary. Same as it had been the previous ten years. 

And the same it would be the next ten. 

For as long as they could.

...


End file.
